What I've Done
by TakoMaguro
Summary: Loki writes of is lamentations. A memoir of sorts. One sided LoTasha/Loki!Centric drabble, I guess. Apologies for the lame description. Rated T for slight gore.


"I COULD HAVE DONE IT, FATHER. FOR YOU. For all of us," I screamed at The Allfather as I dangled off the end of the rainbow bridge.

"No, Loki," he responded, ice in his voice. For a moment, it seemed he was the Jotun, not I.

Heart shattered, I let go of the scepter, and fell endlessly into the abyss of Yggdrasil. I would never be good enough for the man I'd once called my father.

A large part of me died on that day. I would never be the same.

For what seemed like eons, I fell, eventually landing in the realm of the Chitauri. Proving my worth to them was no easy feat. It was brutal on their world, the air was thin, and the soldiers cruel. The Other seemed as hard to please as Odin. He decided I was worthy of the power Thanos could provide.

The power had completely consumed me. It had turned me into someone else. With the scepter I was granted, I felt ice quickly encompass my heart.

I lost sight of who I was completely.

And then I met _her_.

She had beaten me at my own game, and I began having doubts about the war I had started; about my conquest to rule over Midgard. It was not me. And _she_ had made me realize it.

However, it was too late. There was nothing I could do to stop it, as I'd later said to my brother. Nothing could have stopped it.

The Man of Iron had successfully killed off the Chitauri with what the Midgardians called a nuclear bomb, and I realized my defeat. I suppose I'd known all along I would not win. I cannot recall a time I've ever won against my brother.

I despise myself for my actions on Midgard, for the acts I committed against them. I've always been one for simple mischief, but launching a full-scale attack on a realm that had never directly harmed me was not something I ever would do.

Thanos had been controlling me just as I'd been controlling the agent, Barton, and the doctor, Selvig. It was as if I was locked inside my mind as someone, _something_, else took control of my body. I'd screamed at myself, _'What are you doing? This is not who you are! This is not who you want to be!' _But the power of the scepter was too much, I could not take back control of my body.

It was not until the Hulk had repeatedly slammed me into the ground that clarity set in, and I was free of the block in my mind.

And the way _she_ had glared at me, with her emerald green eyes. It had pulled on my heartstrings, the ice melting in the fire that burned in her perfect, beautiful eyes.

The punishment given by Odin was more painful than anything The Other could have chosen for me. I was to have my lips sewn shut, and chained to a rock with a snake dripping venom into my eyes. And I could not scream, lest I tear my lips apart, and the stitches would just be resewn.

My powers of regeneration worked far too quickly as my wife, Sigyn, had to empty the bowl she held under the snakes fangs. The venom burned more harshly than anything I had ever felt. It was blinding, the venom searing my retina.

In my delusion, I found myself wishing to see _her_ one last time. I wished for her to understand his side. I wanted her to know me; to know who I really was, rather than the image projected of me by Thanos' scepter.

It seems silly, in retrospect, as I was married, albeit not happily. My wife never loved me. I had tricked her into marrying me, and being bound to her eternally was the punishment for that prank. Though there was a time where I wholeheartedly loved the Lady Sigyn. The bond between us, forged by Odin, was the only reason she remained loyally mine. Needless to say, my most recent actions have caused her to demand a divorce. She was granted it. I knew she despised me for everything I'd done. I do not blame her. Not in the least.

I do not blame anyone for hating me.

I am thankful for Thor, as he demands daily that I be forgiven. I do not see it happening any time in the near future. Perhaps not even within the next millennia. And by then, my _obsession_ would be long dead and buried.

I do not wish to wait. I want to see _her_. I need _her. Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow._

Alas, it is now too late…


End file.
